


you are the nighttime fear...

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena embraces her fears. [Post episode fic for 3x09.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are the nighttime fear...

Once, she dreamt of him; he interrupted a moment she thought she was sharing with Stefan, a moment she hadn't yet decided she _wanted_ to share with Stefan. In her subconscious, freedom had been easier. Daring to do what she might want to do hadn't felt so hard.

But then, he'd been there instead; not Stefan, _Damon_. Under her thighs, between her legs, his body calling to hers. His eyes had been alight with mischief, and it was months before Stefan explained how vampires could control dreams, so it was even longer before she labeled that mischief _malicious_.

 _I bet you even dreamed about me,_ he'd taunted.

Then she slapped him, and walked away, declaring she was not Katherine before she knew how ironic it was to say that.

 

 

This time, she slaps him first, before he tries anything.

They just had an overview in her health class at school about abusive relationships, so she knows now that she has a problem and that it's not _okay_ for her to hit anyone, even Damon, who earns every slap he gets, one way or another. But still. It's not okay. But damn him, he always, always, _always_ provokes her and she always, always, _always_ gives in.

But for some reason, this time, this slap (open-palmed, stinging against his left cheek), is the one that provokes _him_. She's pinned beneath him on one of the new Persian rugs he'd gotten for the living room in the blink of an eye, and he's sitting astride her this time. They are the opposite of that first dream; a mirror, if you will, and Elena feels fear like she had that time.

Back then, screams had erupted from her throat and she'd jerked herself awake. Here, there is none of that. Stefan is gone, Damon is inconsolable, and Elena had mistakenly come there when he was drinking to lecture him on the importance of getting on with his life. (And he had responded in typical asshat fashion.)

"What's to get on to, huh, Elena?" he shouts, his arms bridged over her body, his fingers tight against her opposing wrists. "You don't know, you don't really understand. You've lost your boyfriend; you'll get another. He's my _brother_ , and he'll come crawling back in some decade years from now and he'll want me to forgive him and tell him that you had a good life, and that everything was better after he was gone."

He slumps on top of her, his weight suddenly more heavy. She hears what he doesn't say, _but it's not._ It's not better. It's empty without Stefan, empty in a way Elena can understand, but only because she's lost her parents, her aunt, her uncle-father, and she's watched her brother die right in front of her.

When he loosens his grip on her arms, she moves slowly, reaches for his face gently; touches his jaw, his chin, the very bottom curve of his mouth.

She'd told him months ago that she forgave him for all of it, but it's only now that she truly does. Whether he's earned it or not, he's experiencing everything she did, and Elena is nothing if not compassionate.

He moves off of her sluggishly, but with awareness in his eyes, like he didn't mean to react like that, both man-handling her, or spilling his inner-most thoughts. He flops over onto his back beside her, a muttered apology slicing the air between them.

She's terrified as she does it; this is the fear that cradles her each night. This is the truth that months without Stefan has forced her to examine. This is the thing that Damon once put into her subconscious that has never really left no matter how much she hasn't wanted it to be there.

She sits up and turns, throwing her leg across him, climbing aboard, but leaning over him so that her hair curtains his eyes from the overhead light. She closes her own as she claims his mouth because she can't face what this means, and it will be all over his countenance.

Because he doesn't hesitate, even though he's devastated. His hands slide through her hair, grip the back of her head; he manages to hold her to him more powerfully with his mouth than his hands, however. His tongue moves over her bottom lip, flicks against the tip of hers, fills her mouth, and then retreats so that she follows with her own. The dance becomes real, between their faces, and Elena learns the steps quickly until they move in tandem, each reaction the very one the other wants, needs.

They make love right there; he removes her clothes, and she removes his, and they touch each other with reverence, gentle and wondering. There is no violence between them here, and truth be told, that's what scares Elena the most.

He turns her on to her back and she opens her legs to him. As he moves inside her, neither of them think of Stefan, for the first time, perhaps ever. It becomes about _them_ without him, what they are, who they were meant to be.

It's the darkest night in her life, when she surrenders to a vampire who she should not want, or need, or love. But she has no choice; she has to embrace her fear because it's the only thing that makes sense anymore.

Facing her fear sets her free in a strange way. And Damon? Damon is never more than everything she desires in those moments in the quiet aftermath. His fingers comb through her hair, and her head rests against his chest while his heart calms beneath her ear.

He whispers that he loves her; she leans her head back, looks into his eyes, and tells him the truth.

"I love you, too."

 

 

"You know, I used to be so afraid of this," he tells her one day down the line.

"What?"

" _This._ Being real with someone. But I guess I should have known it would be fine, since I always wanted it to be real with you, from the beginning."

She slides her fingers through his, gripping his hand tightly. "I was afraid too," she confesses. His face brightens, like knowing she was scared makes his own fear less shameful.

"And now?" he asks, his forehead creasing with a new, momentary worry.

"Now, I know that facing your fears can make you stronger, better." They're almost at the front doors of the Grill, where they're meeting some of their friends for dinner. She presses her shoulder to his. "I wouldn't change anything, Damon."

He smiles as they go through the door; Elena thinks maybe he just faced another of his fears.

Some truths are universal, human or vampire.


End file.
